Every evening when I sit down to relax after my tea, my stalker is staring in the front window.

I close the blinds in the hope she’ll go away, but 30 minutes later, when I peak out again through cracked blinds, she’s still there.

Even when I close the curtains, turn off the lights and go upstairs to bed she doesn’t budge.

The last thing I see before I switch off the landing light is her face, illuminated by streetlight, smiling at me, begging me to make her my number one.

The sooner this election is over and Naomi Long takes down her poster from the lamppost outside our house the better!

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